Forever Parody: Pilot (S01E01)
by stewbeef44
Summary: A parody of the first episode of Forever.
1. So That's Why It Smells That Way

_My name is Henry Morgan. My story is a long one. Too long, really, but I'll describe it in detail anyway. Well, over the course of several chapters. You probably won't even believe me. Then again, this is fanfiction, where Crookshanks/Buckbeak ships are to be found (so my assistant tells me), so perhaps you might. But let's wait until I catch the subway... after all, I have lots of time._

Henry put down his field notebook, and stepped aboard the subway. The subway car he was in smelled of ammonia, but with a strange, metallic air to it. Henry's ever-inquisitive mind thought of what it could be. It was coming from near the back of the car. He moved back, searching the air with his nose.

A young, rather attractive woman yelled at him in Russian, "Отвали, извращенец!" (or, 'Piss off, weirdo!') He understood Russian, and wondered why the woman was saying this. Then he realized the scent had led him to the woman's leg, and he had been sniffing it. Then, he grinned as he realized something.

"It's piss! Somebody has been urinating on this subway, and I intend to figure out who that person was, and bring him or her to justice!" he shouted out excitedly.

There was an awkward silence. "It may have been me," a businessman in a black tuxedo and a red tie said.

"I think we all have, at some point, urinated on the subway," the woman whose leg Henry had sniffed said.

"I'm doing it right now!" a police officer said with enthusiasm. Sure enough, he had his pants and underwear down, and was publicly urinating for all to see.

"Oh, for the love of all that is proper..." Henry started, then stopped as he heard a rumble. It was a sound he had heard twice before: a subway car he was in derailing.

Windows smashed as the subway car was destroyed, one row of seats at a time. Before he knew it, he was looking at a piece of metal having impaled his chest. He bled, and bled, and bled...


	2. The First Death

_I've lived a full life. I've been in love; I've had my heart broken. I've seen my fair share of death. I've also experienced many deaths, but no ends. And that's the problem: no matter how much I die, I never go away. I always reappear in water, namely the East River, which happens to be where I am now._

_It all started when I was a doctor aboard a ship to America in 1814. In addition to cargo, it was also carrying slaves. I attempted to free them and have them take control of the ship, but my death prevented that..._

* * *

**Flashback: A slave ship, 1814**

"The man simply has typhoid fever! It is entirely treatable, I assure you!"

The captain brushed off Henry's words. "He is not a man, he is property." He motioned to anther crewmember. "Toss him overboard."

Henry stood in the way defiantly. "I will not let you do this."

"If you do not get out of the way, I will dispose of you as well."

"You'll have to."

"So be it." He raised his pistol, and shot Henry through the chest.

Henry blacked out from the pain. He had seen gunshot wounds before, but he never imagined they hurt as much as the bullet inside him did. It was almost... unnatural, something even he couldn't explain.

Next thing he knew, he was drowning. Saltwater filled his lungs, and he died. But not for long: he found himself bobbing up out of the water, just to see his destination, the shore of New York, ahead.

**A/N: I realize that this was not a humorous chapter. I couldn't find a way to parody slavery, but I couldn't leave it out due to its integral part in the story. The next chapter will be much more light-hearted though... stay tuned!**


	3. Henry In Jail

As Henry got out of the water and climbed onto the boardwalk, he noticed people staring at him. He was naked, as always when he came back from a death. "_Hopefully,"_ he thought to himself,_ "no police will see me this time."_

Right as he finished his thought, a policeman walked up to him. He was familiar with this particular one. "Hello, Mike."

Michael Hanson let out a sigh. "I think I remember telling you not to go on naked swims?"

"Yes, Detective..."

"And yet here we are. You know the drill, put your hands behind your back."

Henry was to spend the night in jail. Again. He was miserable, as he was hoping to ask the woman whose leg he had sniffed on the subway out to dinner. And then she died, and so did he. Then, he came back, and she didn't. Was it always going to be like this?

"Hey. What are you in here for?" It was his cellmate who had spoken. He was a thin, wiry young man in his early 20s.

"I was sleepwalking."

"Then why are you in here?

"I was sleepwalking naked, then took a swim in the East River."

"Oh, gotcha. My name's Lucas, by the way."

An awkward silence followed. "What about you?" he asked.

"I stole the world's largest diamond. I didn't kill anyone doing it, though."

"Well, I suppose that's good..."

"Except for that priest I ran over with the stolen car. Not sure if he was a priest or a Mafia member, though. They all look the same to me."

"So what you're saying is you're a habitual liar, and you lied to the police, and they arrested you for it?"

Lucas put his head down. "Yeah, pretty much."

"You don't have to lie in order to impress people, Lucas. You have two doctorates in Criminology and in Anatomy, correct?"

"How did you know?"

"You were one of the applicants to be my assistant at the New York City Medical Examiner's office. Your resume looked splendid... although you didn't have to put your questionable student films in there."

"Then it was rejected?"

"Not anymore. How would you like to be my assistant?"

"That'd be awesome! I can start tomorrow."


	4. With Apologies To Marcel Marceau

"You know, even for a guy who spent the night in jail, you look like crap."

Henry sighed. Abe was the only one among the living whom he trusted with his secret. "Why, thank you Abe, but I can assure you I look the same every day. Even if that is like crap."

Abe laughed softly in response. They got in the car, and he started to take Henry home.

The problem was that Abe was a terrible, terrible driver. Henry had considered getting a license, but then he would be in more records. With his condition, that was asking for trouble. Then again, so was letting Abe drive.

There was an audible *thump* from under the car. "Did you just hit another mime?"

Abe looked in the rear view mirror. "Yeah."

"That's the fifty-seventh mime you've ran over in the last week. Is there something you're not telling me?"

"I... I don't like mimes."

They got out of the car. Abe's old antique store doubled as their house. As they walked toward it, Henry thanked science that Abe didn't have to commute on the subway.

"Excuse me if I'm wrong, but you've never died in a train crash before?"

"Don't be silly, Abe. Of course I have."

"Oh? How many times?"

"Twice. But now I know what that foul smell is on the transit system... it's urine. Did you know that people openly urinate in there?"

"Really? You just died a particularly horrible death, and the only thing you can think of is the fact that it smells bad?"

"Think of it as a defense mechanism." Henry suddenly got a distant look on his face, as though recalling a bad memory. He quickly put the thought away. "Goodnight, Abe. I'm going down to my laboratory to sleep."


	5. How To Frighten Sociopaths

"Ugh, not your finest hour..."

Detective Jo Martinez looked in the mirror of her car, wiping off her smeared makeup. She saw Andre, the man she had drunkenly slept with the night before, approaching.

"Hey, you just snuck off..."

"I would call it a 'shame-free' night out. Until now."

"Well, there's just one tiny mistake. You took the wrong phone." Jo grabbed her phone from his hand and handed his phone back to him.

"I see what's going on here."

"What's that?"

"I saw the picture on your phone, a bunch of saved voicemails... are you stepping out on your old boyfriend? You know, this doesn't have to be a one-nighter; there's no reason we couldn't be something more."

Jo stared at him. She just said goodbye to her husband, then while she was in mourning, a man seduced her while she was drunk and slept with her? And now he was going through her voicemails and pictures of her former lover, and trying to use that to be in a relationship with her... this man was clearly a sociopath. Something had to be done.

"Andre, do you know what rabies is? How it's transmitted?" Andre gave the detective a confused look, so she went on. "One way is through infected animals. Usually, they're cute, warm, fuzzy rodent animals."

She held up a squirrel in front of his face. "Guess what disease this squirrel has."

"R-rabies?!"

"Very good, Andre! And if you ever so much as sneeze in my general direction again, this squirrel will give you rabies. Have a nice day."

She started the engine, turned the sirens on, and drove off to the precinct.


	6. Yoga Is Overrated

As Jo drove, the squirrel scampered around in its cage, looking at Jo.

"Don't judge me, Chuckles."

The squirrel cocked its head sideways. Jo sighed. "I know, you miss Sean. I do too. And I'm sorry for saying you had rabies."

This seemed to satisfy the cute, furry rodent. It curled up and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

"Detective Martinez... been calling you all morning. Late night?" Detective Michael Hanson loved to tease Jo. She was like a sister to him, and therefore it was his duty to not only protect and serve, but also to annoy Jo as much as humanly possible.

"Early. Took a yoga class, and hit the sack."

"Wait, what?" Mike got worried. Jo hated yoga. "You've been drinking again, haven't you?"

"No..."

"Jo, look at me." Jo eyed him warily. "Jo, I know you, and the only way you could enjoy yoga is if you were drunk."

"I know!" Jo had snapped. "All that goddamn stretching while surrounded by snooty, smelly hipsters, and then a sociopathic yoga teacher takes you home, sleeps with you, then in the morning, goes through your phone in a creepy attempt to do god-knows-what-else to you!"

"Holy shit."

"Indeed. Now, do we have a case?"

"Yep, subway crash. Apparently not an act of terror, or the FBI and Homeland Security would have the whole city on lockdown."

Jo looked at the evidence bag, which held a pocketwatch. "That thing looks pretty old... and it's still ticking, too."

"Can't say the same for whoever owned it. No survivors in the car it was found in."

Their boss, Lieutenant Reece, walked up.

"Detective Martinez. You look a bit tired."

"Don't ask," Jo and Mike said at the same time.

"Well, alright then... anyway, the M.E. on the scene thinks the conductor died of a heart attack. No traces of vomit, no hemorrhaging or bruising. They think he died before impact."

"What do you need from me?" Jo asked.

"Head over to the M.E.'s office, and get someone to sign off on the cause of death of the conductor as soon as possible. And hope there's no alcohol involved. If there is, we're looking at fourteen homicides."

"Got it."


	7. Never Enough Coffee

"Alright, Lucas, who's first?"

"Subway conductor, NYPD called twice asking for cause of death; I told them there were about twenty. Spinal fracture, blunt force trauma to the head, exsanguination, all probably postmortem. Early diagnosis says a heart attack got him first."

"Lucky bastard." They heard a gasping noise as one of the interns in the next room fell over. "What happened?" Lucas said in shock.

"Oh, that's just Brett. Apparently, he had a heart attack. I suppose I should call an ambulance."

As they wheeled Brett out, Detective Jo Martinez walked in. "Do you have a cause of death yet on the conductor?"

"We're just about to begin. You're welcome to join us. Lucas here can get you a coffee."

"Yes... why don't I... maybe a latte... or any kind of frappe-type beverage, maybe a pressed juice... does wonders for the colon."

"No thank you, I'll just hang out," said Jo, wincing as Henry pulled out the colon from the dead man's body, studying it with fascination.

"I know! I'll just get an assortment, then we can decide later," said Lucas enthusiastically, walking off.

"Sorry for your loss, Detective," Henry said, who was now sniffing the appendix.

"Sorry, I think you're confused. I didn't know any of the victims."

"No, I meant your husband."

"Excuse me? And why are you grinning?"

"I noticed the slight discoloration on your left ring finger. Could be divorce, but most divorcees don't wear their wedding band around their necks. I'd put his death at under a year."

"How would you know that?"

"Well, my assumption is that your drinking is a recent development. Squinting suggests a sensitivity to light, slight decrease in respiratory function, and the scar under your right eye is crooked."

"I was in a hurry this morning."

"And there's none under your left. As for why I'm grinning... well, I do like examining dead people."

"Something tells me you've had one too many cups of coffee."

Henry stopped grinning. He now had a confused expression on his face. "Too much coffee? How can that even be possible? Hm. Well, if this man had lived any longer, he would have most certainly died of a heart attack."

"So you're saying he didn't die of a heart attack?"

"No. Look at this," Henry said. He started grinning again. "Foaming on the lungs... pulmonary edema. I believe this man was poisoned."

"Wait, what? That's your official diagnosis, a homicide?"

"I know, right? It's my assumption, but I'll need the toxicology report to confirm. Could take up to three weeks. But I have a pretty good track record, if you'd like to get started on your investigation."

"You do realize the gravity of what you're saying?"

"Yes, I realize you now have fifteen homicides and a mass murderer to catch. Perhaps you'd like to rethink that coffee?"

The phone rang. Lucas picked it up. "Henry, it's for you. Says he's a friend."

"Excuse me." Henry walked to his office to take the call.


	8. Henry's New BFF

Henry picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Is this Henry Morgan? Doctor Henry Morgan?"

"Speaking."

"Doctor, I gotta say, talking to you is probably the most exciting thing that's ever happened in my life."

"Well, that's nice; for most people it's not even the high point of their day." Henry was always sure to be polite, even with the creepiest of people.

The caller chuckled. "I'm sure. But if they knew more about you, I'm sure their opinion would change. Doctor Morgan... how did you survive that subway crash?"

"I don't understand what you're talking about."

"Yeah, you do. The one that killed everyone in the first car. Everyone except you."

Henry's face turned from cheerful to worried. "Who is this?"

"Henry, you can't imagine how long I've been looking for someone like you."

"Someone like what?"

"You don't have to pretend with me. You know what you are, and now I do too."

Henry dropped the phone, leaving it off the hook. "Detective Martinez, Lucas, goodbye."

"What is it, Doc?"

"Lucas, I'm sure you can handle things from here. It's up to you now." Henry strode quickly out the door.

The caller was still on the line. "Henry... come out and play-yay... are you there? Well, reader, looks like it's you and me time. Yeah, I know you're there. You may not know my plans for Henry... and I don't either. Guess I'll have some fun with it. After all, I haven't had much fun in a very long time."

The phone went dead.

* * *

**A/N: Yes, I just made the mysterious caller pull a Frank Underwood and talk to the reader (you). I apologize to no one :D**


	9. Pizza Is A Cruel Mistress

"Now, can you be sure that this person who called you actually knows?" Abe asked as Henry paced around the kitchen.

"Abe, please, he basically said it. Look, we've become complacent, too much time in one place. It's dangerous, you know that."

"Where are we going this time?"

"Completely your choice. Netherlands? How's your Dutch?"

"You do know that the only language I speak at all other than English is Vietnamese, right? Not everyone is fluent in forty-eight languages."

Henry sighed. "Forty-nine, Abe. I had a dream last night about being mummified alive. Wonderful dream, far better than most other dreams I've had. But it was all in Archaic Dravidian, so I know that language fluently now."

"Well, I'm sure that'll be helpful," Abe said, rolling his eyes. "So, what are we going to do after we run?"

"What we always do. Outlive him, lay low, move on."

"Henry... I'm seventy years old. I can't outlive him, and I'm not going to try. I'm not going to move."

Henry turned toward Abe pleadingly. "You know I can't do this without you."

"Then we don't run. We stay, and find out who he is, and what he's after."

"What do you think he's after? Abe, please. This has happened before. I've had every ounce of my blood drained, my organs dissected in the name of science, I've been hanged for heresy!"

"That was a long time ago."

"Yes, 172 years ago... and I remember it well. Hang me once, shame on you. Hang me twice, then I'll impale myself with a bayonet to stop it from happening a third time..."

"172 years ago, they actually used hanging and bayonets!"

"Wait, they don't anymore?"

"I think I'm regretting letting you live in an antiques store."

"Abe, look, I wish I could be as trusting as you, but I have to run. It's my only choice." He looked around, then whispered to Abe, "I have to hide now. He might be using our telegraph systems to spy on us..."

Abe facepalmed. "How are you going to do it? By isolating yourself from the world? Spending all your days with corpses?" He looked up. "I have news for you. You might not be able to die, but you haven't lived for a very long time."

Henry thought about this for a second, then hung his head. "Well, the pizza in New York is far better than anywhere I've ever had it. Chicago's good, but everyone knows deep down it's a casserole and not technically pizza."

"Well, Hawaiian pizza isn't so bad."

"Abe, everyone knows Hawaiian pizza is an abomination of nature. It didn't originate in Hawaii, they'd rather eat _spam_ than that utter shite. It was... spawned... by some pissant hipster arsehole in Los Angeles. Ruined salami, and _canned pineapple_? I refuse to accept it."

Abe grinned. He finally got Henry to talk passionately about something about something other than his impending doom via mysterious caller. "Do _not_ gloat," said Henry, finally noticing Abe's face.

"This isn't gloating. It's pride."

"Ugh, even worse. Now you think you've won with all your ridiculous psychobabble, I'd rather have a blunt instrument shoved into my spleen, and that's speaking from experience. Is that an '82 Cabernet Sauvignon?"

"Yes, too bad you quit drinking twenty-eight years ago."

"I'm reconsidering my stance on a variety of beverages. Now it's been awhile, so you'll have to remind me. How do we fight back?"


	10. Weird Fan Mail

As Henry and Abe were conversing about whether to leave New York, Jo and an intern sat in a room looking at security footage.

"This would be a lot more effective if we knew what to look for."

"Just look for anyone suspicious getting on or off that train. The M.E. thinks the conductor may have been poisoned."

"With that directive, we should have something in no time..."

"Is that sarcasm?"

"Sorry." Jo accepted the intern's apology, not knowing it was sarcastic as well.

After a while, Jo saw something on the security footage. "Zoom in on that guy with the pocketwatch, I can't make out his face." The intern zoomed in, and Jo's jaw dropped.

"You have got to be kidding me." It was Henry. "I'm going to the morgue now, good job... what's your name?"

"My name is Intern."

"Okay, Intern. I'll put in a good word for you." Jo rushed out of the precinct.

"Does she even know what sarcasm is?" The intern sighed, and got back to work.

* * *

Jo walked into the morgue, only to find Lucas smoking a blunt. "Lucas, what are you doing?"

"What does it look like? Hey, I think Mister Subway Conductor wants a toke too..."

"He's dead, Lucas."

"Reaaally?" Lucas asked, elongating the word.

"Yeah, he's really dead, Lucas."

A grin slowly formed on Lucas' face. "Do you want one?"

"No, because there are some of us who don't want to lose their jobs. Where's Henry?"

"I dunno. I don't know him that well, he recruited me to work here while we were in jail."

"Why does that not surprise me? Anyway, tell me when he gets back. I'll be at the precinct."

* * *

A few hours later, Henry walked in to the morgue. He noticed a strange, large envelope saying:

FROM: YOUR FAN

"Lucas?... Lucas?..." Lucas didn't look up. He took a deep breath. "LUUUUUCAAAS!"

"Woah! Did you just pull a Sterling Archer on me?"

"I have no idea what that is. Do you know how this envelope got here?"

"The mail, most likely?"

"There's no postage on it; it was hand-delivered. Has anyone been in the office this morning?"

"Just that cop from yesterday. The hot one." Henry frowned at his blatant misogyny, but Lucas continued. "She was asking about you, told her I didn't know anything." Henry walked to his office to see what was inside. The first thing he got out was an old photo of himself and his wife at the time, Abigail. It was taken in 1955 at a ballroom dance...

* * *

**FLASHBACK: A ballroom dance, 1955**

"Smile!" The photographer took a picture of Henry and Abigail, while the latter gave the former bunny-ears. She was an odd woman. Henry found this endearing.

"Nice footwork, Doctor Morgan."

"Well, I've had a lot of practice, Mrs. Morgan."

"Please, don't remind me..."

"Then you don't want to hear about Nora, Henrietta, that sheep, Queen Elizabeth, that sheep again –"

Abigail put a hand to his mouth. "Maybe later. When I'm dead."

"I was joking about the sheep, you know. Now that pigeon, on the other hand... kidding."

"Oh dear gods..." she said, laughing.

"Abigail?"

"Mm?"

"All of this: all I've learned, all I've ever done, was all so I'd be worthy of you. And I love you more than I've loved anything in this world."

Abigail sighed. Henry was romantic, but he could go a bit overboard on his lines. They were already married, after all.

"Listen to me. Everything you are, everything you've learned is for something bigger. You were made like this for a reason, but it wasn't for me."

Henry paused, then said, "You're right, Abigail. As usual."

Abigail leaned in and whispered in his ear. "Damn right." She grinned, and she and Henry kissed.


	11. Abe Kills Henry

"Hello? There you are. I'm going to grab some coffee, do you want anything?" Lucas asked Henry.

"No, I'm fine, thank you."

"Alright." He started to walk out, then turned around. "You know, it is a little bit strange that we hardly know each other, right? Shouldn't we just go for a beer, or something? Maybe see some music?"

"No thank you."

"How about shopping for scarves?"

Henry looked up, then thought about it for a moment. "_Scarves, or try and stop my stalker from dissecting my organs while I watch? Scarves and live dissection, or no scarf and no live dissection... well, maybe my stalker will be distracted by my amazing scarf and then I could slice my jugular vein with his scalpel to escape. But that would ruin a perfectly good scarf with my blood, and I'd lose the scarf anyway when I reappear... but I do love shopping for scarves..._"

Henry was just about to open his mouth to say 'yes' when Lucas decided his silence meant 'no'. "Okay, I appreciate the candor." He picked up the envelope from the table. It still had something inside. "Huh, what's this?"

"No, wait!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, chill. It's just a newspaper clipping." Lucas read the sticky note attached to it aloud. "'Henry Morgan, QED'. Shouldn't it say 'MD'?"

"QED. _Quod erat demonstrandum_... it's used in mathematical proofs, it means 'which was to be demonstrated.'"

"What's being demonstrated? Wait, what is it?"

"He wanted to prove it was true. He did it."

"Who did what... wait, what are we talking about?"

"Is the corpse of the subway conductor still here?"

"Yeah, it's in the fridge, why?"

"I need to take a sample of the blood from the corpse home to use in an experiment," Henry said excitedly. Without a word, he ran out to his car.

Lucas started to think that accepting a recruitment offer from his cellmate in jail might not have been the best idea he had ever had.

* * *

"What does 'QED' have to do with it?" Abe asked Henry as they were walking from the car to the antiques store.

"He killed the conductor to prove I couldn't die."

"Well, aren't there a lot of easier ways to do that? He could come up behind you in the street and... bang! Or he could have strangled you, hit you with a car, bored you to death with one of your own lectures..."

"Yes, but where's the flair in that? No, he's leaving clues. He wants me to find out who he is! If we can figure out what kind of poison he used, then we can work out a time frame for when the injection took place. Once we figure out when he killed him, we can figure out who he is."

"Yes, but to figure out what kind of poison he used, you have to wait for the toxicology report."

"There might be a faster way."

"Oh, really? And how will you do that?"

"Abe, how would you like to poison me?"

* * *

"I'm still not doing this." Abe sat in his chair with his arms crossed.

"Abe, did you know your fourth wife is now a prostitute?"

"I'm not poisoning you, Henry. And yes, I'm well aware."

"I killed your goldfish yesterday, then served it to you for breakfast."

"Mimeslayer? He's right over there in his tank." Abe pointed. "Seriously, you'll have to do better than that."

Henry was getting desperate. "Alright, you've left me no choice. I've invited Marcel Marceau, the famous mime, over for dinner."

Abe looked up slowly, eyes narrowed, teeth bared. "_You wouldn't._"

"Oh, I would! He'll be here performing in about five minutes."

"HHYYYRRRAAAAHHH!" Abe screamed, running over to Henry with the syringe and injecting him with the deadly toxin.

"Thanks, Abe. Marcel Marceau is dead, by the way." After saying this, Henry started foaming at the mouth and lurching back and forth. Finally, he fell over, died, and disappeared.

* * *

Abe was waiting for Henry by the river. Henry put his clothes on and got in. "Aconite! Also called monkshood. The queen of poisons. It's extremely fast-acting. It enters your bloodstream on contact, and then there's this gut-wrenching, burning sensation in your stomach. Blistering in your lungs, tingling in your fingers, your face goes numb, and then luckily you die."

"I'm so glad I now know the gory details of what you were feeling when I murdered you. Thank you!" Abe replied sarcastically, looking at the road ahead.

As they approached the antiques store, they noticed three police cars parked outside with their sirens on.

"Maybe we were robbed," Abe suggested.

Henry realized what was happening as soon as Detective Jo Martinez got out of her car and looked right at him. "I'm afraid not. I believe I'm being arrested again."

"Why?"

"They think I killed the subway conductor."


	12. The Interrogation Subversion

"Does this watch belong to you?" Jo passed the pocketwatch he lost in the subway crash to him.

"Ah, yes. I appreciate you taking the time to recover it."

"You're a suspect in a mass murder investigation. It never occurred to you to tell me you were on that subway car when I was standing in your office?"

"Oh, it occurred to me, but I didn't think it was relevant. Didn't want to waste your time. If I wanted to waste your time, I'd tell you all about what an appendix is for. Or why people read fanfiction." He leaned in and whispered, "They're both completely pointless."

Jo knew by now that this was going to be difficult. "We obtained a warrant for your residence. Found your little secret cave." She handed him pictures taken in his basement. "Quite a collection you have down there. Got some human organs, some torture devices..."

"Oh, those are for sex. Sometimes you need to push the envelope... right, Detective?" Henry gave Jo a slow wink. He was trying to be weird enough so Jo would stop the interview in disgust, but it seemed it wasn't working.

"The human organs or the torture devices?"

Henry grinned. "_B__oth_."

Jo pushed that to the dark recesses in the back of her mind. "So what happens when that toxicology report comes back, and I can link you to the poison?"

"You won't. Based on my findings, if I had to hazard a guess, I'd say it was aconite. Something I haven't experimented with for years. If I were to kill someone, I'd use polonium."

"You should write a book. '_If I Murdered Fifteen People On A Subway, This Is How I'd Do It_.'"

"I should, brilliant idea! I'd use polonium because it doesn't present itself for weeks, so it makes for a much better alibi. Aconite, on the other hand, is a rather silly way to kill someone. It's extremely fast-acting, so the killer would have to get up close and..." Henry paused as he realized something. "The killer, I suspect, was on that train at some point or another."

"Well, now we're on the same page."

"Alright then. I did it."

"Is this a confession?"

"No. It's a hypothetical."

Michael Hanson and Lieutenant Reece walked in to the observation room to watch the interrogation from the one-way mirror. "Is our murderer trying to pull a Sherlock on Jo while he's being questioned by her?" Lieutenant Reece asked.

"I'll bet you thirty bucks she punches him," Hanson challenged.

"And I'll bet you thirty she pulls out Chuckles the squirrel and gives him rabies," the lieutenant counter-challenged.

"Deal."

Henry continued. "Being a homicide detective, I'm sure you have very good powers of deductive reasoning."

"Okay, you got on that train, poisoned the conductor, the motive we can work out later..."

"Fair enough. We all know motive doesn't count for anything."

Jo ignored this. "You knew he was going to die, so you went to the back car and just braced yourself. Then you piled out with the rest of the crowd. A few hours later, you go back to work like nothing ever happened."

"Where I was lucky enough to meet you. You should have seen the look on your face. You were literally praying it was a heart attack."

Jo stared at him, then asked through the one-way mirror, "Can I arrest people for being creepy?"

"Unfortunately not..." Lieutenant Reece mumbled.

"But then again, Detective, I was the one who suggested poisoning. So, what conclusions can you draw?"

Jo buried her head in her hands, then looked up. "Either you're a complete sociopath who wants to be caught, which I'm not ruling out..."

"Nor should you."

"...Or, the real killer is still out there."

"Seems like sound logic to me. Well, I'm sure there's one thing we both agree on: you don't have enough to hold me. At this point, anyway."

"That is true. You are a free man, Doctor Morgan. Do not go far."

"You have my word. I'm going to start on that book you mentioned now." He walked out of the room.

"So, about that bet..." Mike started.

"Just forget about it," said the lieutenant, shaking her head.

* * *

"What exactly are we looking for here?" Lucas asked.

"An entry point. The killer had to inject him somehow." He looked behind the conductor's left ear. "Here it is. Look at the bruise."

"Couldn't that have happened during the crash?"

"There wouldn't be a mark. Once he was dead, his blood stopped pumping. Better question: why would you let somebody inject you behind the ear... unless you didn't let them."

"That's kinda obvious, don't you think? 'Cause if he let somebody inject him, _and_ he didn't let them, now that would be hard to figure out. Impossible, really. But replace the 'and' with an 'or', and... presto!"

"Lucas, ignore that theoretical logical quandary and grab the UV light."

"Or is it 'or' grab the UV light?" Henry gave him a look. "Alright, Doc..."

Henry shone the UV light on the bruise, revealing a fingerprint. "Bingo."

* * *

Back at the precinct, Mike and Jo argued about whether to look for another suspect. "Jo, do you know what this guy's last gig was before this? Gravedigger. I swear, you could not draw a creepier dude here."

Jo frowned. "When you look at the evidence against him, we have nothing. What's his motive?"

"Oh, come on, this guy's a total freak. Who knows what he's capable of."

"I'm not saying he's not capable. He is, without a doubt, the weirdest, creepiest, most unusual person I've ever met. I'm simply saying that if he's our only suspect, we should start looking for another."

"I couldn't agree more," Henry chimed in. Jo didn't realize he had been standing there the whole time. "Might I have a word, Detective?"

"Um... when I said creepiest, I meant that in the nicest possible way."

"I'm sure you did. For example, just yesterday I told my roommate that his ex-wife is a prostitute and that I served his pet goldfish to him for breakfast, all of which I meant in the nicest possible way. Also, I thought you might want this." He handed her an envelope.

"What is it?"

"It contains a fingerprint from the corpse of the subway conductor; I thought maybe you could run it through your system. That is, if you're still open to other options."


	13. A Parody Of Fire And Poison

Henry and Jo got out of the car. "Okay, the fingerprint belongs to Hans Koller. He has no prior criminal record, is not officially a suspect, and I ask the questions," Jo said. She started walking to the front door of the suspect's house.

"Alright then. I'll just watch and observe." He started to go around the back. "Hey. Doctor Morgan. We don't have a warrant... Doctor Morgan, you said you would watch and observe!"

"Oh, I'll just watch and observe through his windows. Occasionally."

"Can you dial down the creepy a bit?"

"That's hardly proper English, Detective."

"_It's vernacular_," Jo hissed.

Henry pointed. "Look at that. Probable cause."

"It's a dead rat. Henry, New York is full of dead rats. It's the dead rat capital of the world."

"I'm aware of the fact that New York has a rat problem, but I actually think London has New York beat as far as that moniker. At least it did when I left it..."

"Why are we talking about dead rats?" Jo asked, frustrated.

"Because this one has foam around the mouth. It died from something it ate."

"Like rat poison?"

"Or human poison." Henry walked over to a greenhouse, and opened the door. "See? Monkshood, also known as aconite. So, Detective... are you beginning to see why bringing me along was a good idea?"

"You're gloating, Henry," Jo said, rolling her eyes, although there was a hint of a smirk on her face.

"I am not." Henry started walking to the garage. Jo quickly stood in front of him.

"Hey, stop... stop! Do not move. This garage could be filled with poison, I will go first."

Henry looked shocked. "Do you have that much of a chronic heroine complex that you would walk into a room probably filled with poison to save the weirdest, creepiest person you've ever met?"

"Don't make this weird, Henry." Jo cleared her throat, and pulled out an ancient Japanese samurai sword. Holding out Chuckles like an allegedly rabid squirrel-shield, she charged headlong into the fray of Koller's garage, screaming, "Come and get me, you spawn-of-Loki! To AASGAAARD!"

"Too late..." Henry muttered, following her. "Jo, no one's here." He motioned to a beaker filled with purple powder. "It's aconite."

"Okay, just back up, don't touch anything."

The garage door opened. Henry and Jo hid in a back room. "_Stay put_," Jo whispered. She ran out into the main garage.

"Freeze! NYPD. Hands where I can see them. Hands where I can see them, now."

"Take it easy, buddy. Nice and easy there, guy ol' pal. It's okay, I'm being polite, see!"

"I didn't _ask_ you to be polite," said Jo, taking a step forward.

"Well, then I won't be!" Koller splashed some poison on Jo's hand before running out. "Auggh!" Jo screamed.

"Detective, your hand!"

"I'm well... aware of that... Henry... ugghh..."

"It's working its way into your bloodstream. We have less than a minute."

"I gotta wash it off."

"No, we need to set it on fire," Henry stated matter-of-factly. "Here, ethanol." Before Jo could react, Henry got out a flamethrower. "This might hurt." He then took aim, and shot a stream of embers at Jo's hand.

"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU! AHHHHH!" Henry then grabbed her hand and dipped it in a bucket of water. Jo gave him a death glare, saying under her breath, "I will cut you."

"Do what you will. I had to neutralize the poison. Trust me, aconite is a terrible way to die."

* * *

After a short while, the police came. Lieutenant Reece briefed the rest of the officers. "Hans Koller, turns out he used to be a chemist until four years ago when his wife, Karen, was in an accident on the subway. The driver of the train that killed her was the same conductor that was just poisoned. The guy's been planning this for a long time."

Jo walked over to Henry. "Hey, you okay? You seem confused."

"Jo, I just set your hand on fire, and now you're speaking to me as if I did you no harm."

"You did save my life." Jo put her non-burned hand on his shoulder.

"Also... you accidentally dropped your squirrel while approaching Koller."

"Oh gods, no! NO!" Jo pulled out her samurai sword, placed it on the ground with the point straight up, and stood on her tiptoes.

Henry pulled her back. "Stop trying to fall on your own sword, Jo."

She noticed some rope and a statue of a cross on the lawn, and proceeded to tie herself to it. Henry quickly untied her. "Get off your cross, Jo." She saw a dead mare that Koller had been experimenting on. Jo started punching it. "Why? WHY?!" she yelled, crying hysterically.

"Stop beating a dead horse, Jo. And Chuckles isn't dead, he's in a coma in the vet's office. I personally had him taken there."

Jo sniffed. "Thank you, Henry." She sat down next to him.

Henry thought for a moment. "Koller's motive... it doesn't make any sense. He did it because the subway conductor killed his wife."

"That actually sounds like an understandable motive to me."

"Yes. It's just that I thought he was after... something else. I was wrong." Jo smiled at him.

Henry paused. "You want a drink."

"Oh, Henry, it's just that I'm –"

"I'm not hitting on you, Detective. I was merely stating a fact. You want a drink."

"Henry, you're totally hitting on me. That's a fact too. And..." Jo thought for a moment. '_Well, he can't be worse than Andre_.'

"Alright. See you around seven-o'-clock, Henry."


	14. A Detective And An ME Walk Into A Bar

Jo sat next to Henry at the bar where they were meeting. "So, I checked you out. You went to medical school in Guam, before that you actually worked as a gravedigger, and you carry around a 300-year-old pocketwatch. So, Henry Morgan, what's your story?"

"Well, it's a long story..." Henry started, but then saw the look on Jo's face. "Well, let's start with Guam then. It's... an island." Henry usually didn't have to describe his falsified degree in detail; most people just stopped listening when he mentioned it was in Guam. This usually suited him fine, but now that someone actually was interested, it was nice. Flattering, even. Too bad he didn't have much to say.

"Guam is a country, right?" Jo said.

"Whatever did they teach you in basic geography?" Henry was astounded. He was used to the British system of geography, which was very rigorous.

"Well, to our credit, we didn't have to memorize the ceremonial and traditional counties of England, for one thing," Jo said, grinning at him. "You do know that's nearly useless outside of the United Kingdom, right?"

"Well, now that's just not fair." Henry said, arms crossed in mock frustration.

"Yeah, it is. But seriously, what was your social and academic life like? Any all-nighters, or wild keg parties?"

"Yes, quite a bit of both. In fact, I don't remember much at all because I was either tired or intoxicated." Henry looked a bit uncomfortable as he said this.

Jo laughed heartily. "That sounds typical. But you don't seem the type to get too drunk."

"I wasn't beforehand. But then there was that time I was making lamb stew. I hadn't cooked with alcohol before, and ended up putting in four entire bottles of ale in it. Naturally, it didn't cook down." Henry was not making this up, although it didn't happen in Guam. "After that was a blur. Mostly four hours of sleep every two days, and much of the time I was there it was just crack, prostitutes, and wild sex orgies."

Jo knew he was hiding something with that as a cover. She wanted to know more about him, though. "But then how did you remember what you learned? How are you so good at your job?"

Henry smiled. "Well, that's where the gravedigging comes in."

"Okay, let's just gloss over that one," Jo interrupted. "What about the pocketwatch?"

"Well, I won't bore you with the details, but the watch was a gift. Legend has it that it belonged to a doctor seeking passage on a ship from Africa."

"A slave ship? Did the doctor..."

"No, the doctor did not own slaves. He was very much against it," Henry said defensively. "It was given to him by his father. Anyway, the watch was lost at the bottom of the ocean, and years later it was recovered by a team of treasure hunters. It was bought at an auction and given to me."

"Wow. That is a generous gift; that person must have really cared about you."

"Yes, I suppose she did. But then she came to her senses and left me."

"Yeah, well, they do that..."

There was an awkward pause. "What happened to your husband?" Henry asked.

"Well... he was a lawyer, was in D.C. for a deposition, and decided to go for a run on the hotel treadmill. He had a heart attack."

"I'm sorry." Henry now felt a bit guilty about brushing off Brett's heart attack, and saying that Jo was 'praying' that the subway conductor had died of one.

Jo continued. "There is a part of him that I still feel. I just want it to go away."

Henry took a drink. "It won't," he said simply.

"Thank you! I feel so much better," Jo said sarcastically.

Another awkward silence followed. Henry broke it again. "But your squirrel... Chuckles... he's a reminder of him, isn't he?"

"Your observational skills are parallel to none, Henry. Yeah, he was Sean's pet squirrel. He'd always carry that damn rodent wherever he went. Chuckles reminds me of the good memories Sean and I had." Jo smiled wistfully. "Now, tell me more about gravedigging..."

* * *

As the night went on, Henry and Jo got quite a bit drunk. "What time is it?" Jo asked, slurring her words.

"'Bout one in the morning. I should be getting home, don't want to worry about my son..."

"Ya have a son? What's 'is name?"

"Abraham."

"The guy with you in the car when I 'rrested you? Gosh, your son's old."

Henry hiccuped. "He sure is..."

Jo suddenly held Henry's hand. "Take me home with you."

"Alrighty then..."

* * *

Henry woke up. He went downstairs to find Abe reading his newspaper and none other than Jo Martinez sipping coffee with a tired and rather confused look on her face. Henry stopped dead in his tracks. "Jo... did we..."

"No, we didn't. Abe helped me onto that antique bed over there and you got a blanket. Then, I thought you and I were going to... you know... but you just went upstairs to your room." Jo took another sip of coffee. "Why didn't you?"

"Jo, I don't sleep with women who don't have a clear head. That applies even if I don't either. Also, I myself am in a bit of a mourning phase."

"You should tell her, Henry." Abe said, looking up from his newspaper.

Jo guessed who it was. "Same woman who gave you the pocketwatch?"

"Yes."

Jo's cellphone started ringing, so she answered it. "Lieutenant?"

"They just found more poison in Koller's lab," Lieutenant Reece said. "You need to go there right away; Hanson and I will be waiting. And get Henry, make sure he goes along."

"We will be right there." Jo hung up. "Looks like we're going back to Koller's lab. Let's head out."

* * *

As Jo and Henry entered Koller's lab, a chemical engineer who was called in as a consultant briefed them.

"These vats were full until about six hours ago; spectrometer says it was aconite. Based on the volume, I'd say about two gallons. We also found traces of ethanol, I guess he was cleaning the casks."

Henry's face twisted to horror. "Or he wanted to make it soluble."

"Why would he need to do that?" asked Jo.

"To produce a mass quantity. Maybe he's looking for a bigger audience."

"I'm gonna get Homeland Security on this." Jo walked off to make a call.

"What are these?" Henry asked Mike, pointing to a stack of papers on the table.

"We found those in the trash. Looks like schematics. Here's a fish, a crab... maybe it has something to do with water?" Mike grinned at him. "Maybe he's one of your fellow naked swimmers."

"Now that's just not funny." Then he seemed to remember something. "The fish is Pisces and the crab is Cancer. But they're upside-down. The zodiac is painted on the ceiling of Grand Central. They said it was to give the perspective of the gods. Where was his wife killed?"

"Let's see, it was... crap, it was Grand Central Station."

"I could be wrong, but if I'm not, we're all going to be very busy."

* * *

**A/N: I know this is a slightly less funny chapter. I mostly wanted to give it some element of seriousness to keep the parody grounded, as I sometimes go on wild tangents in parodies if I don't.**

**Also, lamb stew can actually make you drunk if you don't boil down the ale enough. I speak from experience... not fun. :P**


	15. An Unusually Polite Mass Murderer

On the way over to Grand Central Station, Henry had a worried look on his face. "I want to ask something, Jo. About last night..."

"Oh, we don't need to talk about that."

Mike was driving. "Hold on, you two didn't..."

Jo rolled her eyes. "No, Mike." He gave her a look. "Alright, we may have come close to hooking up, but he ended up not doing that because he realized we were drunk. I stayed at his house, though."

"There actually is one thing I am curious about," Henry said. "While I was drunk, did I mention anything strange?"

"Well, you mentioned that your seventy-year old roommate was your son." Henry's face turned into a gaunt mask of the utmost fear. "Relax, Henry. I'm pretty sure that was just the alcohol talking."

"Ah, yes, it probably was." The medical examiner still looked worried, however.

Jo patted him on the shoulder. "I know this is your first case that you've handled that doesn't involve the victim already dead, and that's stressful for anyone. But don't worry. I'm sure if I team up with the weirdest, most unusual, and... classiest person I've ever met, we'll be fine."

Mike shook his head disbelievingly at the two as he got out of the car. Jo had been though quite a bit recently, and had been going to bars, getting drunk, then going home with people who treated her like crap. But the last person she got drunk with actually treated her well, didn't take advantage of her, but rather was kind enough to simply let her stay at his house for the night. He was alright for a guy who had a torture sex dungeon in his basement. Not that Mike would admit that out loud to either of them anytime soon, though.

* * *

"Koller could be anywhere." Mike said in frustration as they got to the station. As usual, it was quite crowded.

"We should shut this place down and get these people out of here." Jo was about to flash her badge when Henry walked off. "Henry, where are you going?" She ran after him as he walked towards the stairs.

"I realized something. It's a little chilly tonight."

"That's very observant; why are we running up the stairs?"

"Because the air conditioning is on."

"Please tell me you're not going to turn off the air conditioning in the middle of an impending domestic terrorism incident just so you can be warmer."

"Of course I'm not doing that. I'm turning the heating system on, otherwise it would be just room temperature in here."

"Are you kidding me?!"

"If it helps, I also realized that the ventilation system could be used to release poison gas; namely, aconite. That could be why he wanted to make it soluble."

Jo stared at him for a bit. "You waited until there was nobody else around to say that just in case Koller had an accomplice, didn't you?" she said.

"Yes. But I do intend to turn the heat on once we stop him."

* * *

Jo broke down the door to the roof. There seemed to be no one there. "Perhaps I was a bit overzealous," Henry mentioned nervously.

Jo was about to reply when a gun was fired. She was hit, and fell over.

"Detective! Please, don't go..."

She could barely hear him as she started to lose consciousness. "Stay with me, Jo..."

"I'm a little chilly... please turn the heat on..."

"Alright."

She grabbed Henry's jacket and pulled him over to her. "She said, sarcastically... uggh..."

Koller walked over to Henry. "Hey, can you please get over here! I can use your help. Come on. That's it, buddy." Koller pointed to a vat of aconite. "Can you grab that for me and bring it over here?"

"You bastard! This isn't the answer! Killing all these innocent people won't bring your wife back."

"It's what she would have wanted."

"Would she? She would want you to murder fifteen people, then about a hundred more?"

"Yes! She always told me to 'kill people with kindness'. So that's what I'm doing now."

Henry decided not to press the issue, choosing to reason with him. "Trust me, I know what it's like to lose someone. To feel like life is playing a cosmic trick on you. But killing these people, it's not going to make the pain go away." Henry stepped back from the vat of poison. "I can't let you do this."

"I'm so dreadfully sorry, but if you don't help me, I'll have to kill you."

"This may come as a surprise: but a gunshot is not the worst way to go."

"Well, what is the worst way to go?"

"Oh, definitely a subway crash. First of all, you know what's going to happen about ten seconds beforehand, so this gut-wrenching fear overwhelms you. Then, you have to watch as row by row, people are crushed to death by the subway car being flattened. Then, you are too, but chances are that you don't die even then. Sometimes you're lucky and you get impaled. As for your wife..." Henry stopped and realized he was lecturing him about the details of how not only he had died, but also how Koller's wife died. He also realized that Koller had shot Henry as he was saying this.

"I'm done being polite. At least you're going to a better place."

"I doubt that." Koller ignored him, and caried the vat over to the vent system himself. Just as he was about to hook it up, Henry got up, grabbed Koller, and ran straight off the roof. They crashed on the roof of a taxi, and they both died. But as usual, one came back.

A tear ran down Jo's cheek as Mike Hanson burst in the door to the roof. "Jo, what happened?" She didn't answer, as she finally lost her grip on consciousness. "We need backup. An officer has been shot."


	16. What Friends Are For

**A/N: I do not own Bruce Springsteen. It would be weird if I did. And even though his music is mentioned here, I don't own that either. Please don't sue me.**

* * *

Henry gasped as he came back up from the East River. How has he going to explain this to the police? He got to work thinking of a cover story, then stepped out of the water.

It was a crowded night. It was the annual New York City Streaker Awareness Marathon, and it was just Henry's luck that they were right near the payphone. However, among the crowd of people showing off their unkempt genitalia was a familiar face. It was Lucas, who immediately noticed Henry.

"Hey Doc! Decided to join us? I'm kinda the organizer of this here gathering."

"No, I'm fine, thank you." Henry said, covering up his naughty parts with his hands.

"Well, we're all just glad you like to let it fly sometimes too. Hey, everybody!" Lucas shouted to the throng of nudists. "To honor Doctor Henry Morgan, who everybody knows is my employer, lets _all_ jump in the East River naked!"

They all jumped in. The sounds of Marco Polo being played filled the air. "Oh, dear gods, who in the world did I hire?" Henry muttered, walking his way to a payphone. He found some coins nearby on the ground, and called Abe.

* * *

Abe teased Henry the whole time Henry put his clothes on. "It's not funny, Abe."

"You should really join that gathering," Abe said, doubled over in laughter.

"Abe, Jo is in the hospital. She was shot. Even if I had any interest whatsoever at Lucas'... 'testicle pow-wow...'" Abe started crying in response.

"What's wrong, Abe?"

"It's just... a funny name... for that..." Abe managed to get out, sobbing in uncontrollable laughter.

"Don't laugh so much while you're driving, we don't want to hit another mime."

_THUMP!_

Abe started laughing even harder. "Too late," he said, wiping tears from his eyes when he was done.

* * *

They had to drive the backstreets of New York from then on to avoid any police. A tune played on the CD player.

_The sound of a city_

_So quiet at night_

_The East River Strait_

_A man dressed in a birthday suit_

_Comes out of the wateeeer!_

_Beware the skinnydipper_

_The skinnydipper..._

_Of the rugged streets of the city._

Henry turned off the CD player. A bunch of drug dealers were glaring at them as they drove by. "I don't think they liked your karaoke tribute to Bruce Springsteen, Abe."

"Hey, I'm just learning. We're at the precinct now. Do you have a cover story for how you disappeared?"

"I do."

"Alright. Call me when you need a ride back."

"Thank you, Abe."

* * *

Jo blinked a few times before waking up. Henry was sitting in a chair next to her hospital bed.

"What happened?"

"Well, to summarize, you got shot, and Koller decided to take his own life. He jumped off the roof."

"What about the poison?"

"I guess he thought better of it."

"Where did you go?"

"I was shot as well. Koller was yelling at me at the time, that's probably when Detective Hanson heard you. I knew he would come, so I went off, limping, to a payphone near some streaker's convention run by Lucas. I called Abe; he fixed me up and drove me here so I could make sure you're all right.

"Well, that doesn't make any sense..."

"Okay... what do you think happened?"

"I thought you _both_ fell off that roof."

"Both of us? How is that possible? Trust me, I'd like to be a bit more heroic, but I assure you that's the morphine talking."

"There's something you're not telling me. Henry, when I said you were the classiest person I've met, I meant that. Well, the classiest person since Sean. I don't think you would have left me there."

Henry took a deep breath. A voice he often heard when faced with a dilemma sounded in his head. '_Tell her. You deserve to trust someone, and she does too._' It was the voice of his late wife, Abigail.

"Well then, alright. Here's what happened."

The phone rang, interrupting him. Jo managed to pick it up. "Hello?" She handed the phone to Henry. "It's for you."

* * *

"Hello?"

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright. That was a nasty spill you took last night." It was the mysterious caller.

"Yes, fine, thank you. What is it that you want?" He turned around so Jo couldn't see his expression.

"Same thing you want, Henry. Death. That doesn't seem to be an option for either of us."

"I don't understand... what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that we're the same, you and I. We share the same pain, the same curse, the same affliction."

"How is this possible?"

"I'm afraid I'm as lost as you are. We're soulmates, Henry. We've got eternity together. Might as well have some fun with it." Henry dropped the phone, and turned back around to Jo. "I, uh, better go."

"Henry... are you okay?"

He smiled at her. "I'll survive," he said before walking out.

Henry had left the phone off the hook again. "I'm not done talking, Henry. Reader... why do you think Henry leaves before I can tell him anything? I just wanted to tell him about the fanfiction I'm writing. No, not this one. I don't write parodied drivel like this, it's really a waste of your time. I myself am writing a sequel to My Immortal. I did write the first one." Adam laughed maniacally. "Do you think I'm a monster? Well, reader, you will. You _will_."

The caller hung up. Jo noticed the phone off the hook, and put it back. "Who's Reader?'" she wondered aloud as she fell back asleep.


	17. You Know, I Learned Something Today

**A/N: This is the last chapter of the parody! Well, of this episode. I'm going to start working on a parody of the second episode after this one. Thanks for reading, and if you liked it, keep an eye out for the next parody!**

* * *

_I've seen a lot of death, a lot of pain, a lot of suffering._

* * *

**Flashback: Auschwitz liberation, 1945**

Henry stepped around the ruins of the camp. The smell of death was everywhere. Bodies, mangled corpses. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a man with dark hair. He was alive, but crying. He looked up at Henry. "Hello, _Doctor_," he said in a low, gravelly voice, spitting out the last word.

"It's okay, I'm not a Nazi. I'm here with a rescue party." The man eyed him, confused. "The Soviets are here with a rescue party. You have a British accent. You're not a Soviet," the man said.

"Welsh accent, not British. And I'm a medic who was assigned to aid the Soviets in the liberation of this camp. Find survivors. If you don't trust me, ask any other person with a non-Nazi uniform who will be arriving soon."

"... I can see you're telling the truth. There's another rescue party that arrived earlier. They have a British medic as well."

"Welsh! I'm Welsh!"

"Yeah, sure. She's over there." The man looked around. "Don't bother saving me, do you hear? Save the others."

"But –"

"_I said save the others!_" he hissed. "I'll survive. Not sure about the others, though. Go."

_But I've also seen a lot of life, a lot of beauty, a lot of wonder._

Henry nodded, and saw the woman who, unbeknownst to him at the time, would be his wife one day. He walked over to her in a daze. She was holding a baby.

"Are you a doctor? This baby was just recovered at one of the camps. He appears to be in perfect health."

"He's beautiful." There was not a blemish on him, save for a mark that the Nazis put on him when he was sent to this hell.

_It's not the number of years we live that matters. Our lives just add up to a series of moments. We never know when or where they'll happen. But they stick with us, marking our souls forever._

* * *

Abe was sitting down in front of a chess board. He was indeed Henry's son that he had adopted soon after he saw him in Abigail's arms that day in 1945.

"I believe I'm going to beat you for the first time in sixty-five years. ... Check, mate."

"Seventy, Abe. You've never beaten me at chess!"

"Well, I have now."

_The problem with living for two hundred years isn't the loneliness, the pain, or the loss._

_Henry, you're doing terribly at narrating right now. I'm commandeering this narration._

_Fine, Abe._

_Thanks, Dad. It is those things. He's suffered more times than I can count. But even he knows that what keeps us alive is more important than blood or oxygen, or even love. It's hope. ...Gods, this is cheesy. I'm never narrating again._

* * *

Jo walked in to the store. "Hey! I was just in the neighborhood, and I thought that I would return this to you." She handed Henry his pocketwatch. "Figured it was pretty valuable."

"It is, thank you."

Abe smiled. "Invite her in!"

"Well Jo, may I invite you in?"

"Sorry, Henry. I can't stay; I'm on the job. In fact, have you heard of a sword called the Honjo Masamune?"

"Yes, it's considered the most famous sword in the world. It went missing after World War II."

"Well, my grandfather actually stole it."

"Why are you telling me this? Do you own this sword?"

"I did, but some dickbrain someone stole it from me. I requested you as my M.E. on the case. You coming or what?"

Henry smiled. Abe helped Henry into his coat, whispering to him, "_I want her as my stepmom._"

Henry whispered back, "_Because she owns the Masamune?_"

"_Well, not _just _that! She's good for you!_"

"Anything I should know?" Jo asked, a smile on her face.

"Let's head out, Detective." Abe watched them go, laughing as they walked. He smiled contently as he turned the sign in the window to 'open'".


End file.
